Botanical Conspiracy
Disclaimer: Little Shop of Horrors is NOT mine, but I love it, and would hit that three times over. This is for Erin (The Elfmaniac), so, yeah. Go read her stuff.
Chapter One,
A Funeral for Two
Death, to him, was like a fairy tale.
It didn't bother the man either way, but then again, after seeing so much of it it seems that it was like a second alphabet to him.
Seymour Krelborne stood at the 'grave' of Audrey, his shined black shoes making a contrast against the bright grass that faded into the dark brown dirt that was currently in a pile behind the headstone. A number of people were around him, and a thunderstorm was beginning. In his bony hands rested a red rose, and as everyone had already walked away, he laid the single flower upon the many, but picked it up out of habit, and kissed it before laying it back down upon the deep brown mahogany of the coffin.
Saying nothing more, he adjusted his glasses, beginning to walk back to the black limousine-like car. Two maids stood at the side, waiting for him. The driver was in no hurry, because he also was just at a grave. Death was a funny thing. It affected everyone, only the sad truth was that everyone was to die sometime, and they probably wouldn't be in the minutely perfect state to enter the gates of heaven.
"Don't you feel sorry for him?"
A blond maid watched Seymour trudge back to the car, saying that as quietly as possible to the girl next to her. "I mean, after everything... He has a fortune, a mansion, even in the best social circle, yet... He has no one to share it with." The other looked to her, raising an eyebrow softly as a sudden gust of wind blew a bit of black hair across her face. Moving it with a petite hand, she thought of something to say.
"I guess I do, but it happens to everyone. No one's safe from it."
The blond looked a bit scornfully at her. "That's a lovely way to put it, Grace, but then again, when it involves him, you never have anything nice to say. Here he comes... Get the door open for him." Grace just sighed a bit, opening the passenger's side door to welcome him, even though there was no comfort to be found in the disgustingly rich leather seats. They couldn't speak, couldn't offer an embrace. All they could do was sit in silent wonder, to rot away in an age that he would probably reach if he had good health.
Seymour got into the car quickly. The two maids got into the back seats, and were silent as the driver started the car. Outside, it began to rain, and through two expensive french windows that were part of a rather large, intricate solarium, a large plant sat, grinning wickedly at the scene from a large distance away.